More To Love When Your Hands Are Free
by mywordsareyours
Summary: Nick's always been a sore loser. When the Road Dogs fail to bring in a victory, it's up to Miley to cheer him up.


**I'm not entirely sure why the alarm clock goes off at four in the morning. I know that I set it the night before. I just don't know why I decided that it was appropriate for me to get up before the sun does. Especially when I could be spending more time asleep with Miley.**

I reach over her, stretching my arm to silence the incessant buzzing. She manages to snooze through the sound echoing off our hotel room walls. Usually, I'm the heavy sleeper. It kind of makes me feel like something's off.

But then the phone starts ringing. I snatch it up, murmuring a soft, "Hello?"

"Oh good, Nicholas, you're up," my mom chirps. "Big day today. Breakfast is on it's way. Maybe you could shower in the meantime."

"Okay, yeah."

"And call Miley. Make sure that she'll be up and ready to eat in half an hour."

"Will do."

I hang up and call the room down the hall. The one that Miley's supposed to be sleeping in. Instead, it's Joe's groggy voice that answers.

"Breakfast in thirty," I tell him. "Make sure that you're ready."

"So can I come back to the room now?"

"No, Miley and I are getting ready in here."

"Getting ready or getting busy?"

I snort. "Bye."

The room finally goes quiet again. I lay back down next to Miley, my chest to her back. Her skin's all smooth and warm and inviting. I kind of want to spend the whole day like this. Except my parents would never allow it.

I envelop her tight in my arms. Nudging my nose to her ear, I murmur a soft, "Miles."

She exhales. I feel her twist in my hold, trying to bury herself deeper against her pillow.

"Princess," I say, fighting to keep her near, "we gotta get up."

"No," she whines. "The princess needs her beauty sleep."

I laugh. "She absolutely does not. She's stunning just the way she is."

My hands encourage her onto her back so I can get a better look at her. Miley protests in the slightest but complies. Keeps her eyes shut as she clings to the last few moments of sleep.

She's so beautiful. I kneel over her, straddling her hips. I like the view of having her beneath me. Like she's all mine, ready for the taking whenever I want her.

Just like I had her last night. I trace the hem of the shirt she's wearing. Even though it's my shirt, it's still barely enough to cover anything. And I know she has nothing on underneath. It leaves her all the more vulnerable.

I gasp as her legs suddenly wrap around me, coaxing my chest to hers. She _feels_ even better beneath me. All soft and supple.

Her mouth tilts up to mine. I kiss her slow and gentle like I always do in the morning. It's during the nights that we're all greedy and desperate for each other. Hands and mouths anywhere and everywhere they can reach. When the sun rises, I take my time and just enjoy her.

Not that the sun's even up yet.

"We have to get up," I remind her.

"I like it here just fine."

"That makes two of us." I press my lips back to hers. When I open my eyes, I find her blue ones looking back up at me. "Let's stay here."

She hums, moves a hand behind my neck. "They'd come looking for us," she says as she plays with my curls. "I don't think they'd like to see us like this."

"Like we're completely in love with each other?"

"Like we're about to devour each other."

"You can devour me anytime you want," I murmur as my fingers inch under her shirt. "I'd have no problem with that."

"I'm sure you wouldn't, but now's not a good time." She sighs. "It's gonna be a busy day."

"So I've heard." But thinking back to my earlier conversation with my mom reminds me of something else. "I still have to shower."

Miley gasps as my hands find their way to her bare breasts, her whole body almost stuttering in delight. "_Oh_. Would you like company?"

"Yes, please."

She squirms again as my thumbs flick over her nipples. "Go start the water. I'll be there in a minute."

"Okay."

I reluctantly pry myself away from her, finding comfort in the fact that we'll be reunited in a matter of seconds. I move for the bathroom. Sliding the glass door, I turn the faucets to get the shower going. While the water heats up, I go back to the bedroom and go through our piles of clothes.

After pulling out the rest of our necessary items, I bring the pile into the bathroom. I set our clothes on the counter and go back to check on the water. It's getting pretty warm now, so if Miley could show up—

"Ugh. You could've told me how hideous I look."

I turn around to find Miley leaning into the mirror, wiping beneath her eyes. "If I told you that you look hideous, I'd be lying."

"Yeah, whatever." With a defeated sigh, she twists to face me. "I wish I could wake up in the morning and look as put together as you."

I shake my head. I don't have to look at my reflection to know that I'm undoubtedly a mess. My hair's probably going in five different directions. My eyes must be all droopy and sleep-deprived.

But I don't say anything. Instead, I move forward to kiss her. She sighs happily, throws her arms around me. I lift her up and sit her next to the sink.

"The shower's in the opposite direction, Nick."

"We have to undress you first."

"And you."

"Yes," I reply. "And me."

Miley grins. She cups my face in her palms, thumbs running over my lips. "I like when you're like this. When you act like an actual boy and not a stick in the mud."

"Did you really expect me to be a stick in the mud after last night?"

"Kind of. I thought you'd wake up this morning and only think of the game and the concert. But I guess I was a pretty good distraction..."

Her voice fades as it all comes together. The game. That's the whole reason I got up early. It's the reason _everyone's_ up early. Because I wanted us to have a morning practice before the other team showed up.

"I have to go."

"But we were going to—"

"Not now, Miles."

Her fingers clamp around my wrist as I grab my shorts. "I thought we were going to take our clothes off, not put them on."

"I said we can't do this now," I reply, jerking myself free. "I need to get ready. I need to make sure the rest of the guys are ready."

"What about me?"

"You can shower. It's all set to go."

"Nick, that's not what—"

Fully dressed now, I lean in to kiss her. "I need to practice. You have to understand that."

She doesn't say a word. Instead, she flings her shirt at my face before slamming the shower door behind her.

* * *

_Thump. Thump. Thump._

I catch the ball in my glove. Toss it to the floor. Let it bounce off the wall and back to my glove.

_Thump. Thump. Thump._

It's all about the hand eye coordination. The longer I do this, the better I'll be. The greater chance that our team will win. Which is why I've been doing this for over an hour. In my room. In the hall. And, now, in the lobby while we wait for the cars to get here.

"Give me an R!"

I groan at the sound of Miley's voice. Great. She's found me.

"No."

"How about a N?"

"I don't think so."

"Then what about a L?"

"Miley," I huff, "this isn't Wheel of Fortune."

She laughs, and I'm distracted again. My eyes shift in her direction for just a second, enough to catch a glimpse of her in these tiny white shorts and my blue shirt. The one I wear under my uniform when it's cold out. It looks good on her. Brings out her eyes. And the tight material clings to her just right.

"I know. I just thought I could do a quick cheer to get you ready for the game."

I grip the ball tighter, refusing to let my hands wander to my girlfriend. "And what word is spelled R-N-L?"

"Well, I wanted to start with Road Dogs, but you wouldn't give me an R. So then, I tried to spell Nick, but you wouldn't help me with that either. And I was going to try Let's Go Team—"

"Okay, I get it. Just cut it out."

"I'm only trying to help."

"You're not. You're distracting me, and I need to focus. This is a big game."

"I understand that, Nicholas. That was the whole point of me even flying out here. You said that if you didn't win this game, it'd be impossible for you to win the series. You said you wanted me here for support."

"I'm not telling you that I want you to leave."

"You're not exactly making me feel welcome, either."

_Thump. Thump. Thump._

"Fine," she mutters. "The cars are here now. I wanted to let you know that we're ready to go."

I groan as she shuffles off. "I don't need this now, Miles," I shout to her. "I hate fighting with you."

Silence.

Really? You wouldn't shut up before. Now that I want to talk, you won't say a word. Cool.

I take a deep breath, let it go. I walk after her, throwing my ball and glove in my duffel as I move. "Why are you ignoring me?"

"Because it's better than yelling at you."

"Why were you going to yell at me?"

"Because you're annoying me. I get that you're stressed and everything over this game, but there's no need for you to take it out on me."

"I wasn't trying to. I just have a lot going on, okay? There's so much pressure on me."

"You're putting the pressure on yourself. You realize that, don't you? It's just a game to everyone else."

"It's not just a game."

She gives me one of those looks. I know that whatever I say, I'm not going to convince her. That's just the way that Miley is. All carefree and stress free about everything. And I'll never be like that.

* * *

"Okay, so I'll be at third. Who wants to pitch? Kev, do you want to pitch?"

My oldest brother looks over at me as he tugs on his shirt. "I always pitch, Nick. I'm the pitcher."

"All right," I say, going back to my notes. "We'll have Joe be catcher."

"What the hell, Nicholas? I'm never catcher. I need to be on the actual field. I _need_ to run. I'll go crazy if I have to sit the whole time."

"You're not sitting. You're crouching."

"Same difference."

"We need a catcher," I huff. "Garbo?"

He winces as I call out his name. "Aw, do I have to play today? We're gonna have chicken fingers in the dugout, and you know how much I love those."

"So you'd rather eat than play? That's what you're saying?"

"I'm just not that athletic. I'm only going to hurt the team."

"The team needs a catcher."

"Get Lawless to do it," he counters. "I'm sorry I'm not like you, Nick. I'm not good at everything."

I scoff. "Maybe if you were up on time to practice, you would be."

"All right. Enough." I'm suddenly hoisted onto my feet, Joe grabbing my shoulders and directing me towards the door. The one that opens up to the hall.

"We're going the wrong way. The field's in the other direction."

"We're not going to the field."

"But the game—"

"You weren't going to make it to the game if I left you in that locker room," he says once we're alone. "You're pissing everyone off."

"They're pissing _me_ off. They should take the position I assign them. I'm the captain."

"The captain of our _team_. We're supposed to work together, but you're only turning everyone against you with your attitude."

Huffing, I run my hands over my face. "Everyone is driving me insane today. You. The guys. Miley."

"You're driving all of us insane. Coincidentally, though, Miley's the only one who can help." He stops us in front of a door, knocks hard on it, and then pushes it open. Miley and Frank are sitting on the carpet. The floor's covered with giant white squares and markers. "Fix him, please," Joe says as he shoves me in the room.

She looks up at me, tries to hide a smirk that I see anyway. "What's wrong, baby?"

Frankie groans. "Nick's not a baby."

"He's _my_ baby," Miley says. "Come here. Let me take care of you."

I roll my eyes, but cross the room to her. Frankie goes back to whatever he was doing, ignoring me as I step over him. I sit in front of Miley. She gets the hint, lifting her hands to scratch my back.

"Good?"

"Mhm," I reply, leaning forward a bit more. "Really good."

"So what happened in the locker room that made Joe bring you here?"

"Apparently, the team was about to call for a mutiny against their captain."

"Why?"

"Because I was getting angry that no one was cooperating. They don't take me seriously."

"Nick, you're taking everything _too_ seriously. The guys see these games as a chance to chill and relax before the show. You're taking that away from them."

"I'm not." I tilt my head back as her fingers dig a little deeper. "We always have fun."

"Unless you lose. Then you end up throwing a fit."

"That's usually because someone on my own team screws it up."

She sighs. "No one wants to be around you when your temper acts up. It might be someone's mistake that causes you to lose a game, but it's your own fault if the dynamic on stage goes awry."

"Great. Thanks for giving me even more to worry about."

"That's not what I meant, Nick."

The door opens, and my mom pops her head in. "Honey, they're going to start warming up now. We've all got to get to our seats."

I get up with Miley close behind. I watch as she pauses, bends down to pick one of those giant white squares up. "What is that?"

"Oh, Frankie and I were making posters. I decorated this one for you."

"No," I say, pulling it away from her. "No posters."

"C'mon, Nick..."

"Don't bring it. I don't need any posters."

"I wanted to do something fun for you."

"I don't want you to," I argue. "I don't want you doing any stupid chants, and I don't want you making posters."

She frowns. "Sorry."

And there she goes again, making me feel like the worst boyfriend in the world.

"Hey, wait a second, okay?"

"Okay."

I pull her closer, pressing her back to the wall. "Sit by yourself when you get out there, all right? Find a space on the bleachers away from my mom and Frank and Dani."

"But why wouldn't I—"

"The fans know they're all going to be there. If you're with them, they're gonna see you, too. I can't be with you to protect you, so this is the next best thing."

"Right, because thirteen year old girls are threatening."

I rest my forehead against hers, breathe out slow. "They don't know about us, Miles. They don't know that you're here. If they find you, they could ambush you. And I don't...I don't want them to."

"They're not going to hurt me, Nick," she says, nudging her nose to mine. "I'll be fine."

"But it'll be easier for you to blend in on your own. So please—"

"I will. I'll sit on my own. I promise." She kisses the corner of my mouth. "Just focus on the game, and I'll hide out with the fans. You won't even have to worry about me."

"I always worry about you."

Miley presses her palms to my chest. She lets them linger there, her fingers stroking the blue lettering. And then she looks up at me. The way her eyes hold mine...it's like I'm falling for her all over again.

The corners of her mouth turn up. "What are you thinking about?"

"You."

"Oh." She grins. "So that would explain why your heart's suddenly going a million miles a minute."

"Guess you just have that effect on me."

Miley giggles and lifts her lips to mine. "I don't think that's the only effect I have on you."

I know what she's going to do before she even does it. But I still watch as her hand moves to my crotch, lightly teasing. And I know that it's dangerous. That we're out in the open. That someone could see us. I just don't care.

"Oh." She smirks as my hips press harder against her palm. "I guess I was right."

"Shut up, Miley," I groan. I move my hands to either side of her on the wall. Trying to box us in. Trying to get closer. Trying to get more friction.

"You know what _I_ would've liked? Doing this earlier, like in the shower. When I would've been able to get my hands actually _on you_ instead of having to touch you through all these layers of clothing."

"Stop."

"I probably would've used my mouth, too."

She cries out as my teeth sink into her neck. In all honesty, I didn't mean to bite her that hard. I just had to keep myself quiet somehow. I did try to warn her.

"Sorry," I murmur, running my tongue over her skin. "I'm sorry. It was an accident."

"That hurt, Nicholas."

"I'm sorry."

"Jeez. Maybe I shouldn't tell you about the surprise I have planned for later. You clearly are only gonna get overexcited."

"Tell me."

She pushes at my shoulders, making sure I'm a safe distance away. "Well, I knew that you were worried about the game, so I thought that maybe I could give you a little incentive to play harder."

"What kind of incentive?"

"Oh, I don't know. It might be possible that I had a Road Dogs inspired cheerleading outfit put together."

I frown. "I told you that I don't want you doing anything crazy. No chants. No posters. No cheerleading outfits."

"I'm not wearing it to the game. I knew you wouldn't like it. However, _my_ reasoning was that it's so short and tight that it'd have you distracted the entire time."

I feel her shove at me again as I try to get closer. "How short and tight is it?"

"Enough that it's appropriate for your eyes only."

"You're killing me."

Miley grins. "You only get to see it if you win, though. So make me proud."

I nod enthusiastically. "Definitely. I'm _definitely_ going to win. And I should go make sure that the team is ready. Gotta make sure we're all good to go."

She starts laughing. "Sometimes I forget how much I love you."

"I'm glad I can remind you."

I'm pumped now. I'm so ready to do this, and there's no way in hell that we're going to lose.

* * *

We lost. We lost bad, only scoring three runs to their fourteen. I ran in two of the three, but it doesn't really matter. No one wants to be MVP of a losing team.

Miley's fingers reach for mine. "Don't," I mutter, pulling away. "Don't touch me."

I just want to get to my room. I want to be alone. This elevator ride is taking forever. I'm stuck with my entire family in this crowded, little box. I want out.

She moves closer. "Baby—"

There's a ding as we get to our floor. I rush out the elevator and book it for my room. "Bro," Joe shouts from behind me. "Nick, c'mon. Don't be like this."

"Give him time, Joe," Miley replies.

He doesn't. I can hear his footsteps get louder. "Dude, we lose almost every game. I don't know why you expected today to be different."

I scoff. "I didn't expect you to strike out twice, but you did."

"It's not like I didn't try."

"Wait, that was you _trying_? You sure fooled me."

"Why don't you say that to my face, asshole?"

I whirl around, not expecting Joe to be right there. He grabs onto my shirt and pulls. I almost trip over my feet I'm caught so off-guard.

"Guys, hey. Cut it out." And now, Miley's here, too, wedging herself between us. "It's just a game."

"It's not just a game," I snap. "When are you gonna get that? When is _anyone_ gonna get that?"

"When are you gonna calm the fuck down?"

Miley shoves Joe away. "Enough. Go hang out in my room. Clearly, you two shouldn't be around each other."

"You should go with him. I don't want company."

"Yeah, well, I'm your girlfriend, and I know better than to leave you alone when you're upset."

I know she's not going to let this go. She's not going to let _me_ go anywhere without her. So I beep open the door and hold it open for her, following her in.

Miley sits on my bed in quiet. She just watches as I tear open my duffel bag and pull out my baseball mitt. I throw it across the room, let it smack against the lampshade. My batting gloves soar through the air, too. Along with my protein bars. And water bottles. And uniform. And sneakers and cap.

I kick my empty bag aside. Then, I start kicking at an armchair. Just swinging my leg over and over again into the side of it. I'd feel really good if I could break it, but I think I stand a better chance at breaking my foot.

Groaning in defeat, I sit on the edge of the bed. Rest my elbows on my knees. My head in my hands. I hate this. I hate losing. I hate the guilty feeling I get afterwards. The regret. The anger.

Miley's arms suddenly wrap around me, her chin hooked over my shoulder. "You feeling better?"

"No."

"Did you just tire yourself out then?"

"Yeah."

She giggles soft and presses her lips to my neck. "I'm sorry you lost, baby."

"That makes two of us."

"You were really great out there. Seriously, I forgot how good you are. Not to mention that your ass looks amazing in those pants."

"Miley." I try to argue but end up choking on my laughter instead. "Just...stop."

"I'm just saying," she teases. "But I'm proud of you, Nick. I know that you did your best, and the fans do, too. They don't care if you win or lose."

I give up. Leaning back, I sink into her hold. "I wish we'd win, though. We practice so hard. I hate that no matter what I do, it's still not good enough."

"It's more than enough. You don't even have to be playing these games. You realize that, don't you? But you still organize them and train for them. You get the guys all pumped to play. The fans get all excited to catch an extra glimpse of you. That's what's important. That's what makes you a winner."

"That's really cheesy, Miles," I say, looking up at her. "But it's also exactly what I needed to hear. Thanks."

"You're welcome, Nicholas." She kisses me full on the mouth, lets her lips linger there for a moment. "Now, you should go take a shower. You're sweaty and gross."

Grinning, I get to my feet. "Are you coming with me?"

"No. You had that opportunity this morning. Maybe you'll learn to keep your priorities straight."

"Yeah, I think I've learned my lesson."

* * *

The room is terrifyingly quiet when I get out of the shower. My first thought is of Miley. Miley and quiet never go hand in hand. Even when I tell her to stop talking, it only encourages her to talk more.

I don't hear her. I don't hear the T.V.. I don't hear any music. Something's up, and it makes me worry. So I abandon my clothes on the counter and wrap the towel around my waist. Use it cover myself up as I head for the bedroom.

The sight of her literally has me falling to my knees. She's standing in front of the bed in my jersey. Her hair's all loose and wavy. Her legs look impossibly long. And in her hands are these blue and white...pom poms.

"You didn't win, so I couldn't put on the cheerleader outfit. I thought you deserved a little something anyway."

"Uh huh."

"So are you going to come over here or what?"

She starts swiveling her hips in these tight circles, and I almost lose it right there. But I somehow manage to mutter a low, "Fuck," and crawl over to her.

My hands hook onto the back of her knees once I'm close enough. I use them as leverage to keep myself steady as I kneel up to kiss along her inner thighs. Her skin's so soft, so pliant beneath my mouth.

Her whole body seems to stutter as my tongue flickers against her, leaving a trail of goosebumps in it's wake. "What are you wearing under here?" I ask, tugging at the hem of the shirt.

"Why don't you take a look?"

I bite hard at my lip, refusing to let the threatening groan slip out. She's not even doing anything. Just swaying from side to side, and it's still enough to get me going. I force myself to keep my composure as I push the jersey up, getting a full view of the royal blue, lace panties she's got on.

I swear, if she's wearing a matching bra...

My fingers inch higher. And higher. And higher. My heart's going crazy as they anticipate the feel of the underwire of her bra. But instead, they're met with the feel of her bare breasts.

"Holy—"

"Yeah," she hums, "I thought you'd like that."

I get up, grab onto her hips. "Get on the bed," I say. "Get on the bed right now."

But I don't even give her the option of doing it herself. I kind of just heave her onto the mattress and throw myself on top of her. She gasps loud in surprise, but I quiet her with my mouth. Distract her with my lips and tongue as I unbutton the jersey.

I keep it on her but pull it open, leaving her completely exposed. Her body's glistening in a light sheen of sweat. Her chest is pulsing. Her cheeks are flush. Her hair's all wild. Her hands are still clutching tight to those pom poms, holding them over her head.

My girlfriend is the hottest thing in the world.

She hisses loud as my mouth closes over one of her nipples, sucking gently. I use my hand to work over her other breast. I try to alternate between a gentle, massaging motion and rough squeezes, feeling the full weight of it in my palm.

Her back arches up. "Nicky," she breathes as her feet scramble beneath her. I can feel when they land flat against the mattress, using it as leverage to push herself up. "Nicky, please."

My head falls to her chest as she finally manages to roll her hips against mine. "Don't," I warn her. "Don't do that."

"But I want to. Need to. Please."

The warnings going off in my head are quickly overruled. I thrust down into her, pushing against her in a quick, desperate rhythm. And I don't know what it is. Either the feel of her beneath me or the sound of her begging that finally pushes me over the edge. I lose it, spilling out into the towel.

Miley keeps her legs around me. Given that I'm totally out of it, she easily flips me onto my back. Makes herself comfortable on my lap. "Sorry. I didn't realize you were that close."

"I told you," I pant. "I said not to do that."

"I couldn't help it. It was an involuntary reaction." She grins. "You know, you might not have won on the field, but you're definitely a winner in bed."

I laugh, and she shakes the pom poms in celebration. The motion makes her breasts jiggle, and my hands reach up for them again. At the contact, Miley's hips go off, jutting hard into mine.

"C'mon, Nicky," she murmurs. "I know you can go again. You're not done yet."

I squeeze my eyes shut. Breathe in. When I open them, I look right at the pom poms. "You have to put them down. Put them down, and put your hands on me."

She smirks and tosses them to the side. Miley leans over me, pushes my heavy curls away from my face. She kisses me once on the mouth and then lets her fingers trail over my skin. From my cheeks to my neck. Over my shoulders, down my chest, and to the knot of my towel. Which they expertly undo and pry open.

I'm already half hard by the time her fingers curl around my dick. It doesn't take long for me to get all the way there. Miley switches between long strokes and short, jerky pulls. And the pressure is just what I need.

So I'm obviously pissed when she stops.

"Relax, baby," she coos, pulling on my legs so that they're hanging over the edge of the mattress. "I'm just making it better."

It's only when she's on her knees with her hands on my thighs, that I get what she means.

"Oh, fuck," I gasp out as her tongue makes one broad lick along my length.

My fingers twist in the sheets as she gets her whole mouth on me. She's all wet and warm, and it feels so good. Her tongue starts swirling and twisting. Like it's everywhere at once.

I know that I shouldn't look at her. The image is going to make my brain short-circuit, and I have all intentions of making this last forever. But I can't help myself. My eyes open just in time to catch her bobbing up and down over my dick.

I move a hand to her hair, running my fingers through the strands as I thrust into her mouth. Miley makes some kind of startled noise but then relaxes. Her mouth opens a little wider, giving me more room to get where I need.

It's not long before I feel my rhythm go off on its own. Miley's tongue runs over my slit, and I pulse harder and deeper in her mouth. It's when she takes me in further, takes me in her throat, that I reach the end. I cry out as I come undone, and she swallows it all down.

I can't breathe or move for what feels like a solid ten minutes. I'm just so out of it, so blissed out, that nothing else matters. Until Miley comes back into focus. She's sitting on the floor in the same spot. Runs her hand over her mouth. She looks up at me with a satisfied smirk on her face. "Well, that was fun."

I owe her. And I know that it's going to be impossible to repay her, but I've got to at least try. I pull her onto the bed with me and climb over her. "We're not done yet," I say, pulling my jersey off her.

"Oh, we're not?"

"No." I lower my hand between her legs, touching lightly at the damp material. "Let me get my mouth on you."

She whines high. "Yeah, Nicky. Yeah, do it."

I reach for her panties. Take two handfuls and tug until the lace gives and comes undone. I'm too eager to get to her. I throw the torn material to the side and move down to where she's spread for me. Miley lifts her legs, stretches them over my shoulders, and I take that as my cue to go.

Her hands sink into my hair with the first stroke I make against her. I can already tell that she's not going to last. So I attempt to make it as good as I can. Get my tongue in deep. Use my fingers to roll at her skin.

She pulls hard at my curls. Her hips thrust once, twice, and a third time before she goes over the edge. Miley holds my mouth against her, and I drink her up, lapping up everything she has to offer.

It takes a while for her to come back to me, to come down from her high. Her body is still pulsing as she looks up at me from hooded eyes. "Hi," she murmurs.

"Hi," I say with a grin. "You okay?"

"Mhm."

"Good." I ease her legs back onto the bed. Then, I wrap an arm around her, lift her so that we can lay against the pillows. And then I just try to breathe.

Miley moves her hand over mine, the two of them resting on her stomach. "You okay?" she asks.

"Never better."

She giggles. "So you're not stressed out and tense anymore?"

"Not at all. I don't think I've ever felt this good in my entire life."

Miley laughs louder this time. She leans into me, kisses me soft and lazy. "Guess my job is done then."

"You know, I might end up throwing a couple of games if this is the way you plan on cheering me up."

"You're impossible. Go to sleep."

"I will. I'm just thinking about this idea—"

She groans. "If you write a song about me giving you a blow job, I'll make sure you never get one again."

"It's not about that," I say, holding her tight in my arms. "It's just that I kind of got inspired by you...and your pom poms."


End file.
